


All In The Pronunciation

by Dr_Wahoo



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Supernatural
Genre: Crowley (Good Omens) is Not Crowley (Supernatural), Gen, Good Omens/Supernatural Crossover, Humor, Ineffable Husbands (implied), Multi, Novel and TV Canon Fusion, Rated teen for language, Supernatural S5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:08:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21824176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Wahoo/pseuds/Dr_Wahoo
Summary: Sam and Dean make the unenviable decision to summon Crowley. However, the demon standing in their summoning circle is decidedly not the right Crowley — or so they think at first.
Relationships: Implied Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Sam Winchester & Dean Winchester (Supernatural)
Comments: 50
Kudos: 1109





	All In The Pronunciation

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first ever posted fanwork! I’m a little nervous but also very excited to see what all of you wonderful people think of it. 
> 
> My parents are SPN fans and I got into GO over the summer, and I got to thinking one day about what would’ve happened had they met during SPN’s Armageddon arc. Several thousand words later, here we are. I’m less familiar with SPN, so I apologize in advance for any errors in its canon or characterization. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

“This idea sucks.”

Sam stood up, wiping the salt and chalk off his hands. He took a step back and looked over the Devil’s Trap.

“Earth to Sammy? You hear what I’m—?”

“I heard you, Dean. You’ve said it at least thirty times by now.”

“But you’re still not getting how stupid this is?”

“It’s the only idea we’ve got. Crowley’s—”

“The fucking King of the Crossroads!”

“We need the ‘fucking King of the Crossroads’ if we want a shot at stopping the apocalypse. _I’ve_ said that at least fifty times by now.”

Dean just scowled in reply. Sam sighed.

“Look, I get it. It’s a stupid idea. But a stupid idea is better than no idea, and we can’t waste any of those right now. We don’t have the time.”

“…no, we don’t.”

“Now, you can stick around and help me at least try to stop Doomsday, or you can go someplace else if you really—”

“There’s no way I’m gonna leave you. Not with him. It’s just — this whole thing is so goddamned unfair. We shouldn’t have to pull shit like this.”

“You’re right, but we don’t have any other choice.”

“Pretty sure that’s what makes it unfair,” Dean muttered. Still, he uncrossed his arms and stalked over to the Trap.

“Ready?”

“No. Let’s just get this over with.”

Together, they began murmuring the necessary Latin incantations. A hot breeze blew through the room. Overhead lights flickered.

Suddenly, the Trap burst into flames. A torrent of unearthly fire roared to life in the center of the room, flinging sparks that sizzled as they hit the floor.

**“WHO DARES SUMMON ME?!”**

“Told you this idea sucked!”

“Not now, Dean!”

 **“HELLO? I SAID, WHO DARES —** oh, bugger this. Hang on…”

_Snap!_

The flames extinguished. A comfortable chill replaced the scorching heat.

“Now, let’s see what we’ve got.”

Clouds of smoke cleared from the air, and the Winchesters finally caught a glimpse of whomever they’d summoned.

A tall, lanky demon stood in the Trap. Long fingers smoothed back his ginger hair and pushed sunglasses up his nose. Black skinny jeans, a black blazer and a grey scarf completed an outfit that blurred the line between slick and sharp.

Silence briefly hung over the room.

“Uh, Sammy?”

“…yeah?”

“What the fuck?”

“Good question,” the demon drawled. “Since you got me in a good mood, I’ll go with ‘who the Hell are you and what do you want’ instead.”

“You sound… British,” Sam said slowly.

“Yeah. Real observant of you. But seriously, who are—?”

“That’s a new meatsuit. I didn’t know this was your style… or that you had one.”

“Oi, this is my corporation! No ‘meatsuits’ here. And it took loads of paperwork to get so maybe put that down?”

Dean twirled Ruby’s knife. “Not ‘till you cut out the games.”

“Games? You’re the ones acting like we’ve met before or something.”

“Okay, look,” Sam sighed. “All we want is—”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m done doing favors for Downstairs. No more deals or anything.”

Dean stopped twirling the knife. “What?”

“I’m finished. Retired. Whatever you call it here in the States. This is a waste of everybody’s time, so let’s just call it a day and let me out of—”

“Retired?! You’re the fucking King of the Crossroads! You don’t just retire!”

The demon paused. Then, he snorted a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Me, a king? Hah! Good one.”

Dean took a menacing step forward, brandishing Ruby’s knife. “Enough with the stupid mind games,” he growled. “You know us, Crowley, so stop—”

“You’re saying it wrong.”

“S’cuse me?”

“It’s _Croooow_ -lee, not _Craaaawl_ -lee.”

“Doesn’t matter how you say it. Your name was Fergus Rocky MacLee or whatever, and you’re still—”

“Fergus? What kind of name is that?!”

“Yours, asshole!”

“My name’s Anthony J. Crowley, and I’ve had that last bit for millenia!”

Dean’s face turned purple. “You little—!”

“Okay,” Sam cut in hastily. “You’re saying that you’re not Fergus. Even if that’s true, how do you not know who the King of the Crossroads is?”

“I told you, I’m retired! You try it and see if you fall out of the loop for a few decades! All I know is that the bloody king is not me!”

“Prove it!”

“Oh, for — does he have these?!” Crowley whipped off his sunglasses. Golden eyes with slitted pupils glared back.

A brief pause followed.

“…he doesn’t,” Sam finally admitted.

“But rando demons don’t have eyes like that, either,” Dean said warily.

“Oi! I’m no ‘rando’ demon!”

Dean edged a little closer to his brother, asking lowly, “Y’think he’s connected to Azazel somehow or—?”

“Azazel? How’d you know that wanker?”

“None of your damn business!”

“Ah, touchy subject. I get it. Didn’t know him too well, but he sounded like a right bastard.”

“He and you weren’t close?”

Crowley shuddered. “Not if I could help it.”

“And you’re not the King, even though you’ve got his name—”

“He’s got _my_ name. Bastard didn’t even steal it properly, either.”

“—but you’re not some rando demon. Just who the Hell are you?”

“You really don’t know?”

“No, I’m asking ‘cause I can. ‘Course I don’t fucking know!”

“Hmm. Could’ve sworn I made it into your Book of Genesis.”

“…wait, y’mean… you’re the Serpent?”

Crowley grinned broadly. “Got it in one.”

“Wasn’t that, I dunno, _Satan_?”

“Nah, he was still sorting things out Downstairs. I was just the one they picked.”

“Hold on!” Sam sputtered. “This makes even less sense!”

“They wanted me to make some trouble, and I did. The end. Or the beginning, depending on how you look at it. Easy enough, right?”

“Easy for you, y’mean,” Dean grumbled.

“I didn’t know He’d get so tetchy over a few apples!”

“No, no,” Sam cut back in. “I mean, you’re not a king, but you’re the inventor of original sin. Why would Hell let a demon who did something that big just retire? Wouldn’t they want to keep you around?”

“We… didn’t see eye to eye.”

“On what?”

“Eh, y’know. They wanted Armageddon. I didn’t.”

Sam and Dean froze.

“Yeah, it was a whole…” Crowley trailed off. He frowned. “Why’re you looking like I’ve grown two heads?”

“When’d this happen?” Dean asked hoarsely.

“When did I grow two heads?”

“No! The — the not-apocalypse!”

“Ah, 1990. There was the Anti-Christ, the Horsemen and all the angels and demons ready to fight. The whole shebang. But the Anti-Christ didn’t want it, and we mucked things up, so it didn’t happen. We were let go for that.”

“‘We?’” Sam echoed.

Something hummed in the distance.

“Me and a partner,” Crowley explained. “The same partner who’s probably wondering where the Hell I am.”

“I don’t know what’s weirder about this: the fact that you, a demon, supposedly helped stop Armageddon, or the fact that you have a partner.”

Light seeped through the crack under the door.

“If you think that’s odd, your head’ll explode when you see him.”

Dean frowned. “Whaddya mean, when we’ll—?”

The door banged open.

_**“Unhand him at once, foul fiends!”** _

Light flooded into the room like a supernova. Hundreds of furious blue eyes blazed in the doorway and zeroed in on Sam and Dean.

“Holy shit!”

“Is that—?”

“Oi, angel! They can’t unhand me if they can’t bloody _see!_ ”

_**“…oh. Quite right.”** _

The light receded. All of the eyes vanished except for two.

“Are you alright, Crowley?”

“Yeah, ‘cept for the Trap. You?”

“Rather relieved, to be honest.”

A man-shaped being stepped into the room. Pale blond curls framed his plump face, giving him something of a halo. He fiddled with his tartan bow-tie.

Sam blinked. “You… you’re an angel.”

“Indeed! I am Aziraphale, Principality and former Guardian of the Eastern Gate.”

“An angel,” Dean said incredulously, “who’s partners with a demon?”

Aziraphale’s sudden blush answered the question.

“Wh… how—”

“Well, we were supposed to be adversaries, as you undoubtedly know. As agents that resided on Earth for the entirety of its six thousand years, however…”

“We got close,” Crowley piped up. “Kind of inevitable, really.”

“Or you might even say—”

“If you say ‘ineffable,’ I’m going to scream.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “Yes, well. We are partners, and we were enjoying a lovely luncheon at the Ritz before you summoned Crowley.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Sam said sheepishly. “I think we messed up the pronunciation and summoned him by mistake.”

“Who were you originally attempting to summon, if I may ask?”

“Uh… the King of the Crossroads?”

“It was his idea!”

“ _Dean!_ ”

“Why on Earth would you attempt such a thing?” Aziraphale gasped.

“Look, neither of us wanted to, okay? It’s just — ugh.” Sam broke off with a sigh. “Things are really bad right now.”

“Like, Doomsday bad,” Dean clarified. “And we’re gonna need someone from down there if we wanna stop it.”

“Wait. They’re trying to bring about Armageddon again?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale groaned. “Oh, no one tells us anything anymore!”

“Pretty sure that’s what ‘retired’ means, angel.”

“I know, but knowing something is hardly the same as liking it.”

Crowley shifted his gaze back to the Winchesters. “Right. How about you let me out of here, and we’ll see what we can do to help?”

“You’d do that?” Sam asked.

“Eh, we did it before. Might as well do it again.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Contrary to what you might think, both of us have grown rather fond of Earth and humanity in the past six millennia. We are decidedly not of the opinion that it should be tested to destruction.”

“Or get caught in a pissing contest between Heaven and Hell.”

“Crowley…”

“Just telling the truth!”

“Look,” Dean began, “your offer is kinda…”

“Tempting?”

“Real funny. Point is, it’s not that we don’t want help or like getting in the way of your lunch date or whatever, but…”

“You don’t trust us,” Crowley said dryly.

Aziraphale glanced around the room. “Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but I believe that I sense the vestiges of another angelic presence that was recently in this room. Perhaps you could call upon them and have them confirm our identities.”

Sam turned to Dean. “What do you think?”

“Worth a shot, I guess.”

A hush descended on the room as Dean closed his eyes. His forehead wrinkled in concentration. Then, Castiel appeared with a flutter.

“Hey, Cas! So, uh, we—”

“…have the Principality Aziraphale and the Serpent in your motel room,” Castiel said in an unusually quiet voice.

“Oh. Guess that’s one question answered.”

“Told you,” Crowley sing-songed from the Trap.

Aziraphale blinked. “You know of us? I was under the impression that Heaven would keep the details rather hush-hush.”

“There were rumors. Talk was discouraged, but I may have… done some investigating of my own. I learned what I could.”

“So they’re who they say they are?” Sam asked.

“They are the ones who forced Metatron and Beelzebub to reconsider the Great Plan, yes. Though I see the Serpent has since changed his hair.”

Crowley shrugged. “Thought I’d give being ginger a try.”

“Er, if I may ask a question of you, angel…?” Aziraphale began.

“I am Castiel.”

“Ah. Castiel, why is it that Armageddon is proceeding only now? I thought we had sowed sufficient doubt about the ineffable plan in the minds of Heaven and Hell.”

“You did, but the Lord was still present and watchful in those days.”

“…I beg your pardon?”

“Yeeeaaah,” Sam dragged out. “God’s… kind of on vacation. We don’t know where He is.”

Two sharp inhales cut through the air.

“Wait, nobody told you guys?”

“Heavens, no!”

“Pretty sure we’d remember if somebody walked over and said, ‘Hey, God buggered off and didn’t say where, so I guess He’s turned His back on His creations like bloody usual!’”

“Crowley!”

“…sorry, angel.”

“As am I, my dear,” Aziraphale sighed. “I suppose this made Head Offices feel as though they could proceed this time around.”

Castiel nodded grimly in reply.

“It gets worse,” Sam said. “The seals on Lucifer’s cage were broken, so he’s running around now, and I was made to drink demon blood—”

“You what?!” Crowley spluttered.

“Yeah, uh, turns out I’m supposed to be his vessel?”

“What about Michael’s—?”

“Right here,” Dean said glumly.

Aziraphale blanched. “Oh, dear.”

“Yeah. So, things are pretty fucked right now. Fucked enough that we were ready to summon our Crowley if it could help fix things — and don’t give me that look, Cas. We know it was stupid.”

“Well, you may not have summoned the King of the Crossroads as intended, but you have summoned us.”

“You still wanna help? Even after we told you… y’know.”

“If you are insinuating that I would smite you or your brother, young man, understand that I would never, ever do such a thing.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you shoot at Adam when—?”

“That was different! Adam was much more… ambivalent to us at the time. In this situation, it is very clear that neither of you wish to carry out your ordained roles.”

“Are you sure of this, Principality?” Castiel asked.

“I am happy to offer my services in any capacity. Crowley and I didn’t aid in averting the apocalypse for it to happen a few decades later. I also strongly disagree with this infringement on free will, of course.”

“And you, Serpent?”

“What he said. Big fan of free will, me, seeing that I gave it to you lot.”

Sam blinked. “Huh. You know, if you look at it that way…”

“Sammy.”

“What? He’s got a point.”

Castiel didn’t look as convinced. “I am not sure if I believe you, Serpent.”

“Why, I never!” Aziraphale blustered. “Crowley is a dear friend and a—”

“Easy, angel. I don’t blame them. Trusting demons usually doesn’t end well. Hell, I don’t trust other demons. But…”

“Yes?”

Crowley shifted his weight. When he spoke again, it was in a softer voice.

“I could natter on about humanity and how it deserves a chance and blah, blah. But that’s not it for me. I’m selfish, really. I like what Aziraphale and I’ve got right now. If the world ends — well. Eternity’d be bloody boring without him.”

The room fell quiet. An indescribable emotion welled up in Aziraphale’s eyes.

“I… my dear, I couldn’t agree more.”

Sam, Dean and Castiel traded glances. Then a grubby sneaker scuffed out the Trap’s chalk lines.

“You’re in.”

Aziraphale beamed. “Oh, splendid!”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Crowley drawled, sauntering out of the circle.

Sam shook his head. “This is one of the weirdest things we’ve done.”

“It’s Armageddon, kid. Things’ll only get weirder. Trust us.”

Sam and Dean took a moment to take it all in: an angel and a demon standing side by side, taking the other’s hand and brushing shoulders.

“…you know, I think we actually do.”

**Author's Note:**

> This story has a mix of the TV canon and the novel canon of Good Omens. My main reasoning for this was that the “Armageddon’t” happened in 1990 during the novel, which I felt fit with Supernatural lore better than the TV series’ date of 2019. However, Aziraphale and Crowley have different appearances in the novel than in the show. Then I realized I could technically get away with suggesting that since the ‘90s, they’d changed their looks to ones more like the ones seen in the show. Thus, this fusion was born!
> 
> Though I’d argue their characterization leans a little more heavily towards their TV counterparts. TV Aziraphale is a fussy sweetheart and I’m weak for sweethearts. Book Aziraphale, on the other hand… 
> 
> Let’s just say he has all of the fussiness and less of the sweetness. He’s still great, don’t get me wrong. I just wouldn’t buy a book from him. (Probably because he wouldn’t even let me through the door.)
> 
> Castiel’s remark about Crowley’s hair is a reference to his hair being black in the novel and not ginger as it is in the show. I couldn’t resist that little nod. 
> 
> I placed this around season five of Supernatural to fit in with the show’s Armageddon arc. I think it works as a reason (read: excuse) for the Winchesters to attempt a summoning of their Crowley in the first place, and as a nice way to end the story, with Team Free Will and our favorite disasters teaming up. There’s no way Aziraphale and Crowley would take another apocalypse lying down, after all!
> 
> As a side note, British dialogue is hard.
> 
> I thought researching the Supernatural side of things would be the hardest, but at least there’s a wiki for that. Hopefully my meager American attempts weren’t too awful at replicating it. 
> 
> I was fortunate to have some episodes of Downton Abbey and Father Brown to help supply my attempts at writing Aziraphale’s dialogue. Crowley’s was much trickier to capture, of course. I’m not even mad about that. It just… makes sense, in a way. 
> 
> This was a blast to write, and I hope you’ve enjoyed it just as much as I did! Comments and constructive criticism are welcome! I’m always looking for new ways to improve my writing. :)


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